How long can you outrun death?
by Thoughts13
Summary: If I told you what was going to happen here I wouldn't have written the first chapter. Come inside to see, and leave a review!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

There she lay, soaked in her own blood, Face down on earth was not a very comfortable place to be but after falling from that height one should be happy that they still have enough blood coursing through their veins to keep them alive, even if it was an inch away from the door of death or they had lost the use of both their legs. She was barely conscious at this moment, yet fairing much better than her blond haired friend and his faithful no hair per. Both having fallen on a pile of rubble left by the tunnelling machine. Their bodies broke upon the rocks and their lives receded from them, already becoming a part of the great cosmic spirit.

The girl could not see any of this, having landed in soft soil rather than rocks, it appeared that death was only delayed, any moment now his scythe would fall and sever her soul from her body. Facing the other way, she did not see death attending to her friends. Even if she was, there was little she could have seen, the tears in her eyes were too many. What she did see was a blurred visage stooping over her, a voice came to her as though it were underwater and the speaker was many yards away increased the confusion as to what was being said. It was repeated, this time being much clearer: If thou dost want to live, blink twice. Eager to escape death she agreed, blinking twice though it pained her immensely. Alas, this exertion was too much, and she fainted, a silent scream upon her lips.

When death turned his attention to the girl, loath was he to discover that she had vanished, for too long had she evaded him. He paused for a few moments, his gaze lingering upon the depression in the soil and a dry chuckle emanated from the hood of his formless robe. For nothing can escape death


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter2

Chapter2

When she came to all she saw was white. Slowly the colours bled back. First black, then red, and the last colour to come back were green, and that's when she saw her saviour. Her night in shining armour.

At first she was not able to make any sounds. Her mouth opened and closed but nothing came out. It would take some getting used to, cheating death in the way that she did wasn't a regular experience.

She got into a slight sitting up position, immediately noticing that her covers felt cold to the touch as did the rest of her bed, she held her hands up to her face, staring at them, hoping for some hint of recognition. But these hands, although looking similar to the ones she had before (I say similar for these hands were noticeably paler) were not the same. It was as though she saw two different hands that responded to her will, yet were not hers, as though someone grafted them to her wrists. Her eyes widened as the realization hit her, this wasn't her body at all: a vessel for her is what is. The feeling of being an alien in her own skin spread through out the body. All the covers felt as heavy as bricks thought they were made of down. She tried to kick them off her, but no matter how hard she tried, her legs wouldn't move. The weight was suffocating her but she couldn't move from the half sitting position she had taken. A barely audible moan escaped through her frigid lips as her eyes rolled back in her head and darkness took her once more.

Two hands slid covers that had slipped from her shoulders back up, and straightened her out of her half sitting position. The hands swept her hair back from her eyes and caressed her cheek. Two fingers left hand lingered for a moment on her lips. With a slight press, they disappeared.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

When she awoke again, the suffocating feeling had disappeared, and she did not feel as cold as she did before, but it could hardly be called warm. She could move now too, albeit with some difficulty. There was no telling how long she was asleep, there was no time piece in the room, nothing to mark the passing of days. She sat up again, this time fully and took a look around what she assumed was a room in the house of her saviour. She furrowed her brows, trying to recall the face that hovered above hers not too long ago, but alas, all she could remember were two sharp green eyes, shining as though illuminated from within, set in a swirling cloud of grey set against the darkness that was creeping up from the corner of her eyes.

The room itself looked very old, and it seemed that everything in it, must be a few decades old, if not older. The bed she was lying on had four tall posts at each corner, but it lacked the canopy. Ahead of her there was a dresser, which oddly did not have a mirror. to the right of that there was an wardrobe made of some dark wood, mahogany perhaps. To the left of the dresser was the only door in the room. set against the left wall was a sizable desk, and a hard straight backed chair.

By this time she was feeling quite hungry, seeing as how she hadn't eaten for a few days at least. She swung her legs to the floor, and saw then that she had a thin white nightgown on, 'At least my hero gave me something new to wear,' thought she. She stood up her feet touching the cold stone floor of the ancient mansion, and she lurched unsteadily towards the door, one hand touching the bed, the other held out to her side for balance. She had reached the end of her bed when she felt a sudden dizziness, and she fell catching herself upon one of the posts. She lent there for few minutes, before attempting to get to the door again. When she did, she was surprised to see it was locked. 'Why wouldn't he (referring to her hero) leave the door unlocked? Did he save me only to put me in a prison?' This apparent betrayal was too much for the young girl and she slid down the door, her legs no longer being able to support her. 'Did he do something to me?' She wondered, 'Did he do something to my body? for that is the only reason I can come with as to why there isn't a mirror in this room. There are no windows, and they only door is locked. he is surely trying to prevent me from escaping... But why? What has he in store for me? What does he ask in return for saving my life?'

At that moment she heard the door unlock, and she scrambled away from it, until her back hit the post that barred her way. The door opened noiselessly, although it looked unused for ages.It was strange though how there really wasn't anyone on the other side. There was however a come hither sound that emanated from the door, it could be mistaken for a gust of cold air, like the one that accompanied it. Surprisingly enough this strange air refreshed her, so that she could walk once more, though not at her full capacity.

Being naturally curious she followed the voice, it led her into a store corridor, she noted that she was walking into a slight breeze. 'The wind must be coming from somewhere,' she mused, filing that bit of information away for later. Just in case She needed to escape, her hero as it were had not shown himself to her yet, and she had no idea where Ron was. That more then anything was what was troubling her. After all they had been best friends from Pre-K and one doesn't forget about close friends, even when they escape death.

But for now she would follow that mysterious voice where it led her, after all she did owe her life to this stranger. Whoever they might be. She just hoped that it wasn't one of her enemies that had only saved her in return for a favour that they she would keep. Shuddering at the thought of being taken in my someone like Duff Killigan, she continued walking. The hallway had a number of doors set into the walls. Old and dusty doors, presumably locked for some strange reason. And her mind did wander down that dark path of paranoia once more, becoming disturbingly familiar. 'Dead bodies, captive slaves, torture chambers.' she thought while walking past these doors. At the end of the stone corridor was a large door, looking as ancient as the others, but when it swung open, the hinges did not creak, 'Must be in use often.' thought she, 'He must come to check on his prisoners often.'

The room itself was not very large, A single high backed chair was placed by the fire, the back facing her. Along the wall there were a series of bookshelves, and old books, each tome dustier than the one before it. 'A study.' The fireplace was the only source of illumination in the room, giving off a flickering light and dying everything a deep orangy-red. She approached the chair with caution, clearly her saviour must be seated there. 'Saviour or a greater evil?' She stopped for a moment, the phrase _out of the frying pan and into the oven_ came to mind.

An androgynous voice spoke from behind the chair, 'Come closer, and let me see how you fare?' She walked forward, until she saw who was seated in the chair, and she let out a gasp! It was-


End file.
